


blue eyes

by sicklikewinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklikewinter/pseuds/sicklikewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> “I always did love your blue eyes, John.”</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	blue eyes

**Author's Note:**

> transferring things from tumblr to ao3 is really tedious jesus christ

_Plink, plink._

You’re standing in front of the piano you bought specifically for John, and you wonder where you went wrong. (he never said thank you, bro nearly beat the  _shit_  out of you for getting it, and no thanks from the  ** _one person_**  you wanted approval from?) The keys sound dull and off-tune every time you hit one, and you wonder what happened to it. John always made sure it was tuned and perfect perfect perfect. 

 _Plink, plink_.

He religiously cleaned it, he studiously practiced his songs he learned from his dad when Bro wasn’t around, and he hardly let  _anyone_  touch it. (you remember the punch to the face you got for trying to play it, and the beating john got from bro for punching you) You wonder, once again, what went wrong. 

_Plink, plink._

Sitting down on the piano bench, you lift your left hand—clutching something that dripped with fresh blood and gore—and set your prize down on the keys. Two bloodied eyeballs stare up at you, the bright blue irises dim in the shadowed room. You hit the keys a couple more times, and then sigh. 

_Plink._

The eyes stare straight at you, and you frown angrily before snatching them and smashing them against the piano keys as you stood up suddenly. A cacophonous noise erupted from the piano and you let out a frustrated shout. God dammit god dammit god dammit god dammit.

John just  _had_  to run, didn’t he.

John just  _had_  to try and leave you, didn’t he.

John just  _had_  to have his freedom, didn’t he.

Looks like John  _had_  to die, and you were glad to do that to him.

You lift your hand up and examine the eviscerated bits of eyeballs (john’s pretty pretty pretty blue eyes so lovely—”john your eyes are beautiful didn’t you know that didn’t you didn’t you didn’t you?”) smeared against your hand and piano keys. 

You sigh heavily and fall back down on the piano bench. 

“I always did love your blue eyes, John.”


End file.
